We tried. We really did.
Alex, Rory, and I settled onto the couch—me with my decaf coffee (because I’m now at that age where caffeine after 3pm means I’m up all night), Alex and Rory with their ceremonial tea; ready to dive into Haul Out the Halloween, Hallmark’s 2023 attempt at spooky season cinema.
Five minutes in, we looked at each other with that special kind of family telepathy that says “Should we keep going?” without anyone actually speaking.
Aaaaand we bailed.
Nope. Not happening.
What I’ve come to learn is this… Halloween isn’t Hallmark’s sweet spot. And that’s a massive missed opportunity. But I get it. Halloween is about confronting the shadow. It’s about death, mystery, the thin places where the veil between worlds gets gossamer-thin. But Hallmark wants pumpkins and cute costumes without any actual darkness. They want the aesthetic without the theology. Which is why we love them (and why we also can’t stand them).
So, to give it one more try, we went back to the OG. The 2008 classic that started it all: The Good Witch.
Here’s what hit me immediately: The Good Witch premiered in 2008. That was a pivotal year for me—the year Alex and I got married, the year Facebook opened up to non-college students (like me, at the time), the year smartphones became ubiquitous seemingly overnight. The cultural acceleration shifted into hyperspeed that year.
And yet, watching this movie now feels like watching something from the 1980s.
The pleated khakis. The baggy suits with ties wide enough to land a small aircraft.
And the haircuts… Oh, the haircuts!
Chris Potter’s Police Chief Jake Russell sports a hairstyle that can only be described as “youth pastor at a 1997 Promise Keepers rally.” The production values, the pacing, even the dialogue cadence—it all screams pre-smartphone innocence.
From 1988 to 2008, culture didn’t change a whole lot. Sure, we got the internet and grunge music and reality TV, but the aesthetic bones stayed pretty similar.
But from 2008 to now? We’re living in an entirely different world. The distance between 2008 and 2025 feels wider than the distance between 1950 and 1980.
Maybe that’s part of why Hallmark movies work. They’re time capsules. Comfort nostalgia for a slower, simpler era that never quite existed but feels true anyway. They’re pre-algorithm life. Pre-doomscroll existence. A world where the biggest problem is whether the fall festival will happen on time, not whether democracy will survive another election cycle.
Let’s talk about Catherine Bell, who plays Cassie Nightingale with a knowing smile and an endless supply of quippy wisdom that sounds like it was lifted directly from Hobby Lobby throw pillows.
Here are the bangers I wrote down…
“Every ending is just a new beginning.”
“The only person you need to be is yourself.”
“Sometimes the heart sees what the eyes cannot.”
It’s aggressively wholesome. Annoyingly earnest. And yet, I have to say… Bell carries it off with genuine class. My aunt was addicted to the show Bell was in back in the late 90s called Jag. So seeing her in this movie brought back fond memories of my formative years.
Bell never winks at the camera. She never breaks character to let us know she’s in on the joke. She just shows up, collects her check, and makes it work.
And I think there’s a kind of grace in that. The willingness to show up for the gig, do the work, and not take yourself too seriously while also taking the work seriously enough to give it your best. That’s its own form of integrity.
Plus, Bell commits fully. Even with 2008 production quality and questionable wardrobe choices, she makes it work. If you’re going to watch a Hallmark movie about a maybe-witch who may-or-may-not have actual powers, you could do worse than Catherine Bell smiling knowingly while holding a chunk of amethyst.
Here’s where the movie genuinely surprised me.
The setup is classic Hallmark: Brandon Russell (Matthew Knight), the Police Chief’s son, is getting bullied by a kid named Kyle (Jesse Bostick). Kyle shakes Brandon down for lunch money. Standard schoolyard terror stuff.
The obvious move would be to have Brandon finally stand up to Kyle. The underdog finds his courage, tells the bully off, maybe punches him in the nose. Cue the inspirational music. The underdog wins!
But that’s not what happens.
Instead, with Cassie’s cryptic guidance, Brandon ventures into Kyle’s story. He goes to Kyle’s house, a trailer on the edge of town, and witnesses Kyle’s dad shaking him down for money. The bully is being bullied. The sins of the father are visited on the son, and Kyle is just repeating the violence that’s been done to him.
In that moment of vulnerability—seeing Kyle as a whole person with his own pain instead of just an enemy to defeat—Brandon gives himself over in friendship. Invites Kyle over to play video games. Opens his life to this kid who’s been tormenting him.
And Jake, Brandon’s dad (who just so happens to be the police chief), steps in to help remove Kyle from the abusive situation.
Look at you, Hallmark, playing with incarnational theology! Having your innocent victim entering someone’s suffering instead of fighting against it or judging their behavior from a distance. It’s a stretch to say Brandon saw the image of God in the “enemy,” but we’re gonna go with it.
Some say that we’re all sinned-against before we’re sinners. We see that playing out here. Kyle didn’t wake up one morning and decide to become a bully for fun. He’s carrying generational trauma! He’s repeating the only pattern he knows. And the path to healing isn’t judgment or retaliation—it’s presence, vulnerability, and someone willing to see him as more than his worst behavior.
Good man, Jake!
This subplot—buried in a movie about a maybe-witch selling herbal remedies in a small town—is better theology than half the sermons I’ve heard.
Let’s address the elephant in the curiosity shop: How does Cassie’s store, “Bell, Book & Candle,” stay in business?
She sells tinctures, essential oils, and herbal remedies for five bucks a pop. (That’s about $7.50 in today’s money, accounting for inflation.) At one point, she sells a woman some kind of fertility-enhancing aphrodisiac blend. Witchy lady viagra. Go ladies!
But seriously—you’d have to sell a looooooot of aromatherapy oils to keep the lights on. Rent, utilities, inventory, not to mention living expenses? The maths don’t math!
I see these shops everywhere—crystals, tarot cards, sage bundles, manifestation candles. And I always wonder: How? Are they fronts for something else? Trust fund babies playing shop? Money laundering operations disguised as metaphysical boutiques?
Or maybe that’s the real magic. Small-town economics that defy capitalism’s brutal logic. A world where you can run a niche curiosity shop and actually survive. Where community matters more than profit margins. Where people support local businesses because they value the person running them, not just the ROI.
Or maybe it’s just Hallmark hand-waving the details so we can focus on the vibes. Either way, I want to live in an economy where you can make a living selling five-dollar chunks of rose quartz.
Count. Me. In.
So here’s my verdict: The Good Witch is a tolerable feel-good movie. It’s safe enough for a five-year-old to watch. It has moments of genuine theological insight (the bully subplot). Catherine Bell is a delight. The soundtrack is pleasantly generic.
But it’s not Halloween. It’s Hallmark! And that’s okay to me:)
So, I’ll keep going in this project. I’m having fun with it so far. Thanksgiving is coming next month, and I’m genuinely curious whether Hallmark can stick the landing. And then December brings the crescendo… Christmas! Hallmark’s Super Bowl, their World Series, their moment to shine!
But Hallmark, if you’re listening: Halloween deserves a little better than this. Give us some real spookiness. Go ahead and let the Good Witch be a little more witchy.
But not too much! We love you for who you are.
P.S. What do you think? Are you a Hallmark Halloween defender? Do you have a favorite spooky-season movie that actually delivers? Drop a comment and let me know. And if you’re enjoying this ‘Ber Months journey, subscribe so you don’t miss Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Keep 'em coming, Rev. I hope you are working on your script, the one that deep-dives into the shadow. a little wandering in the desert, and climaxes with The Great Big Beautiful Ballroom being transformed into a D.C. food bank and clinic.
I’m not a Hallmark fan (their greeting cards are great though), so my Halloween choice would be either Frankenstein (scary) or Young Frankenstein (funny). Or both, why not?